


twilight anesthesia

by Anonymous



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fantastic Racism, Lio Fotia Whump, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Porn With Plot, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Foresight steps forward, into his space, and Lio recoils instantly, almost banging his head against the wall.He’s too close.Lio never feels hot, but the body heat radiating off of Foresight makes him feel sick. Makes him want to vomit. The man is too close, almost brushing up against Lio’s abdomen with every measured breath the asshole takes. He’s strapped down and he feels too open — as if he were on an operating table, like he’s being vivisected again— and Foresight looms over him. Trapped. Like a pinned butterfly.
Relationships: Kray Foresight/Lio Fotia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	twilight anesthesia

Standing isolated on the horizon (and completely ruining the view) is the Burnish prison camp. It is an ugly square of concrete. An architectural abomination. It isn’t intimidating. He can’t feel how fast his heart thrums, how tightly his shoulders tense, how shallow his breaths come. Lio is not nervous. 

There’s no reason to be nervous. They’ll be free again soon enough. And the rest of the Burnish will be free once more.

If it all goes according to plan.

Galo Thymos was a bad omen. Being captured by a Burning Rescue squad had never been part of the plan; their scheming had already been thrown off-course.

And so if Lio feels nervous — which he doesn’t — then it would be that firefighter’s fault. The pit in his stomach is because of _Galo Thymos_. It is not the sight of the Burnish prison that causes it, nor is it the knowledge that so many Burnish have gone in and only ashes have come out.

The Freeze Force truck lurches to a sudden stop. If they were not already laying in a crumpled heap on the floor, they would have toppled over from the force. As it is, the Freeze Force soldiers do not use gentle, friendly hands as they are ‘helped up’ from the cold metal. Lio struggles to his feet with a hand in his hair; Gueira is forced up by his wrists, and Meis is pulled up by the back of his throat.

“Walk,” the biggest, ugliest one of the bunch says.

And with Freeze Force guns pressed into their backs, they frogmarch into the prison. 

The hallways are long and cold and they all look the same and the worst part is that they are all _empty._ They pass many doors, but Lio cannot see inside any of the rooms. Maybe the room is full of Freeze Force thugs. But…Maybe their people are waiting just behind that door, or that one. God, what if there are _children._ He knows of at least a dozen cases where the children have been taken.

But what if there aren’t any children here? He isn’t sure which scenario is worse.

They trudge through more hallways. He half thinks that they are trying to turn them around. Get them confused.

One of the doors is pulled open. It’s disappointingly empty.

He’s shoved in first. His footing is unsteady, and he slips — his face becomes well-acquainted with the freezing metal of the floor. He hopes it’s cleaned regularly, but something about the grit under his cheek tells him it isn’t. Meis and Gueira are pushed in after him.

The weight and warmth of their bodies as they stumble onto him is actually reassuring.

They struggle to sit up together.

“Don’t make trouble, _mighty_ leaders of Mad Burnish,” the ugliest Freeze Force jerkwad says with a sneer before the door shuts, plunging them into darkness.

For a few moments, none of them break the silence. And then:

“It’s freezin’ cold, Boss,” Meis complains in a hush. “And those guys are total dicks.”

Lio bites back a smile. Meis always knows how to lighten the mood. How to turn a despondent moment into one they can conquer. They had planned to be captured, but it felt different now that they were actually here. 

“Let me warm it up for you,” Gueira snarks. And then he lights up with a shout. For one second, Lio thinks he sees the flicker of flame escape the cuffs — the next, Gueira lays flat out on the floor, shivering.

“So…these cuffs are harder to break out of than we thought,” he says as he struggles to sit back up. 

Meis grimaces. “You okay, man?”

“I’ll be fine,” Gueira says.

“We’re going to gradually wear them down, not overload them immediately, Gueira,” Lio reminds him gently.

Gueira sighs. “Yeah, yeah… or you just break out of yours first, and you can blast ours to bits from the outside.”

Lio shakes his head. “You shouldn’t rely on me for that. You two need to be able to free yourselves.”

“I still don’t think we’re going to get separated,” Meis grumbles.

“You should be prepared for the possibility,” Lio retorts.

“Fine,” Meis gives in. “So what’s next?”

“We need to find where the others are,” Lio says. 

Gueira and Meis nod.

“How are we going to do that?”

“We’ll wait until we’re being moved… I don’t want to risk a breakout when we don’t know where the guards are. We’ll overcome them, and then find the other cells…”

They go over the plan in hushed, quiet whispers for some time. It’s hard to know exactly how long — there are no windows, only looming shadows, and the Foresight Foundation is not kind enough to put clocks in their prison cells.

But eventually their little peace is shattered by the door sliding open.

Light floods into the room. Lio barely prevents himself from squinting — choosing to glare instead. They are met with the sight of a standard-issue Freeze Force jackboot. Two more stand off to the side.

“Get out,” the guard barks out. “You’re being transferred.”

Lio glares at him before rising to his feet, Gueira and Meis slowly standing up at either side of him. His legs have gone numb from kneeling on the hard metal floor for so long. His feet feel fuzzy, like television static, and standing on them hurts.

But this is good. It’s the opportunity to find the others that they’ve been waiting for.

Suddenly, he’s staring down the barrel of the guard’s freeze-gun. It’s directly in Lio’s face. “Come on, shortstack,” the guard continues.

The tension in the room thickens. Oh. _‘You’_ means Lio — not the three of them. Meis and Gueira are raising their hackles on either side of him, clearly disliking this turn of events. He can’t blame them. He doesn’t like it either.

“Boss?” Meis asks quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” Lio says through gritted teeth. “This has always been a possibility.”

It was, and they had planned for it, and Meis and Gueira and the rest of the Burnish should still be able to escape if his two generals just _stick to the plan._

And Lio? Lio will survive. He can handle himself.

He has before, after all.

He steps forward, only half-sure, suddenly feeling untethered in his own body.

“Move it,” the guard demands.

Lio tries to hold it together as he walks through the cold, icy halls of the compound with his arms bound uncomfortably in front of him and the barrel of the ice-gun digging into the small of his back.

The guards shepherd him throughout the gray, metallic halls of the compound. 

A new cell — the same size as the other and this one, too, is completely empty.

Well.

At least he’s not being executed yet.

“Back against the wall,” the guard says, leveling the gun at him once more.

Maybe he shouldn’t count his chickens before they hatch. Lio grits his teeth and complies.

He hears a mechanical whirr and the sound of metal locking together. He looks down; around his ankles are two fetters attached to the wall. 

And not even a moment later, the guard is advancing. The Burnish-suppression cuffs separate when he presses a previously-hidden button — and Lio startles, he didn’t know they could disconnect like that — and the guard has carefully swung both of his arms up, away from his face. They connect to the wall with a metallic clunk.

And like that, he is pinned open and defenseless.

“What are you doing?” he asks flatly.

The guard does not respond. He simply leaves, shutting the door behind him. The room is plunged into darkness.

If he could, he’d tug at his hair out of frustration. As it stands, he starts trying to wear down the freezing mechanism of the cuffs. He tries to stoke a flame out of the embers under his skin, over and over again. He can’t feel his hands what must be hours later when the door slides open once more.

And standing there, broad-shouldered and totally unruffled, is Kray Foresight.

The door shuts behind the governor with a resounding, metallic clang. Lio’s heart sinks at the sound. He does his best to keep it from showing on his face. He is stronger than this.

“Lio Fotia,” Foresight greets him with an affable smile, like the bastard _isn’t_ using the Burnish as unwilling lab rats for human experimentation. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Foresight,” Lio says, narrowing his eyes.

“So cold, Lio. I thought the Burnish were meant to be aflame with passion.”

“The only thing I feel passionate about right now,” Lio says, “is burning this whole facility to the ground. Preferably with you in it.”

The governor laughs. It’s a dry and humorless sound. Lio hates the way it echoes against the walls of the cell. “You could try. I doubt you'd be successful. My icebox cuffs are quite the invention.”

Foresight steps forward, into his space, and Lio recoils instantly, almost banging his head against the wall.

He’s too close.

Lio never feels hot, but the body heat radiating off of Foresight makes him feel sick. Makes him want to vomit. The man is too close, almost brushing up against Lio’s abdomen with every measured breath the asshole takes. He’s strapped down and he feels too open — as if he were on an operating table, like he’s being vivisected _again_ — and Foresight looms over him. Trapped. Like a pinned butterfly.

And then he feels a hand. And he hears a clink. His belt. He’s _fiddling with his belts._

Lio’s pulse stops.

“Don’t,” he tries, voice hard.

“Ah,” Foresight says. His hand pauses. Lio isn’t sure if it’s the prosthetic or the flesh-and-blood hand. It’s an awfully dexterous prosthetic. “There’s no need to be concerned, Lio.”

“Don’t,” he says again. Something in him starts to break, crumbling his walls. He isn’t begging. He wouldn’t lower himself like that, so he isn’t begging. It only sounds like he is. He just wants the bastard to _back off._

“It’s purely scientific,” Foresight says, faux-reassuring. “It will… take the edge off.”

Take the edge off? His heart is thrumming so fast. He wonders if Foresight can feel it.

Foresight’s hands — big and clinical — peel him out of his leathers. The exposed skin of his thighs explode into goosebumps. Inside the icebox cuffs, his flames erupt sporadically. His hands are so cold that his fingers might snap off. 

And then Foresight’s big reveal.

A syringe; the needle glints sharply in the strange light.

Is it possible for a heart to burst? Could his flames heal him if it did, or would he turn into ashes? If Foresight could not feel his heartbeat before, he surely can now. It feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. It might even be visible under his ribs. He feels sick.

He can’t do this again.

He thrashes in his restraints, trying futilely to get away. Dignity be damned, whatever is in that syringe is _not_ part of the plan —

Foresight easily encircles his thigh in one huge hand to hold it in place. First, the sting of the jab. Then, the burn as the bastard methodically — and so _slowly_ — depresses the plunger. It _burns._ He hasn’t felt burnt in years.

Lio can’t hold back the keen that creaks out of his throat, or the way he is trembling in his bonds now.

“What did you _do_ to me?” he pants out.

“My apologies,” Foresight says flatly as he carefully recaps the needle. The governor’s faux-civil facade is back on as he takes in the sight of Lio, bound and shaking and leathers shoved down around his knees. And he says, almost kindly, “I’ll return soon.”

He turns and walks out. The door closes.

The lights go dark, and Lio is left alone, listening only to his own breathing and wishing that his pants were back up around his waist.

Eventually, it’s too hard to keep his thoughts straight. The walls are swimming in front of him. Saliva pools in his mouth, nauseous. And he wants to flop bonelessly onto the ground, curl up into himself, but he _can’t_.

Something catches his attention. A movement? A sound?

He drags his eyes up to meet — Foresight, the man himself a slightly wavering tower of white in front of him. It’s hard to focus. Everything is so blurry. But he thinks he sees that face — even now, the bastard’s face causes hate to flare up deep in his gut — and he thinks that Foresight is leaning down. At him?

“…Leave me ‘lone,” he finally tries. He hopes the words are comprehensible.

Contact. A hand cradles his face.

He faintly registers the urge to vomit as Kray Foresight tilts his head up, moves his face from side to side, gently cupping his chin.

“Do you like it? The team at Foresight Pharmaceuticals is excited to see how it effects the Burnish physiology. This is the first field test, after all — at least, the first test not on a subject slated for immediate termination.”

He can’t summon the energy to do much more than glare balefully in Foresight’s direction.

“It’s an interesting drug,” the governor continues, droning on and on about the scientific details of this fresh new torture. The details wave and shift away. They aren’t important, really, Lio knows somewhere in the back of his mind. It’s not meant for him, not really. Foresight just loves the sound of his own voice.

Everything else in the room is so warm. But the metal — or maybe plastic? — of the man’s prosthetic fingers against his face is cold.

And then he’s drifting away. He doesn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed my 1st promare fic!! updates (& some smut) to come soon!
> 
> come find me on twitter - @deucali0n


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